Dogleg Right

by Geonn

Ari got out of the car, squinting into the sunlight before sliding on a pair of wraparound sunglasses. She did a subtle sweep of the parking lot, hoping no one she knew was present. She reached into the backseat and retrieved her borrowed golf bag. She resisted a sneer at the pink-and-white design. She would have preferred something more antique, distressed leather or something with a bit of class, but this served today's purposes. She put the strap over her shoulder and walked to the main entrance of the golf course.

She went into the clubhouse and took off her glasses, scanning the other golfers milling about in various outfits. The men generally wore khakis or shorts, and nearly all of them sported horrifically pastel polo shirts. Ari, at the moment, couldn't exactly fault their outfits. At the moment she wore a sleeveless white blouse under an argyle sweater vest. Her skirt was plaid, and she wore knee-high white socks. The only things in her outfit that she liked were the brown and tan saddle shoes, but those were ruined by the cleats on the soles.

There was a small seating area that looked out over the course. Ari rested her clubs against a plush armchair and took a seat. She tried to make her pleated skirt cover as much of her leg as possible, but she failed miserably and eventually gave up. She put her elbows on the arms of the chair and laced her fingers together. All she could do now was wait and hope the trap worked.

A couple of people joined her in the seating area, but they quickly disappeared to tee off. Ari picked up one of the magazines off the table, but it was a golf magazine. Though she tried to feign interest in the articles she eventually gave up and checked her watch to see how long she had been waiting. She was close to giving up when a man spoke from just behind her chair.

"You know, golf originally was anagram that meant Gentlemen Only, Ladies Forbidden. But I think that if the first players could see you in that outfit, it would have been called GFLB. Gentlemen Fine, Ladies Better."

Ari forced herself to smile, ignoring that the man had confused acronyms and anagrams, and that he was mistaking misogynist urban legend as fact. He stepped around the chair and offered her a hand bedecked with large gold rings that made his knuckles look swollen. His golf uniform consisted of white shorts and a polo shirt that was definitely straining around the waist. His skin was tanned nut-brown, which set off the gray at his temples. He took the chair next to her and flashed his veneers.

"Well, thank you."

He gestured at her clubs. "I can see you play. So why are you just sitting here by yourself?"

"I don't like playing by myself. I was hoping there would be someone here I could play with."

His eyes widened a touch behind his glasses, and his smile widened just a bit. "Well, I was just going to hit a couple balls at the driving range, but I could play a quick nine."

"Oh! I'm afraid I'm not very good."

"Don't worry, honey. We'll work out your handicap once we're on the course." He patted her knee, and Ari had to force herself not to twist away from his touch. At least he was wearing golf gloves so it wasn't skin contact.

She took her clubs and let him escort her out onto the course. "I'm Abby. What should I call you?"

"Folks around here call me Snowbird." He touched the gray at his temples. "More now than they used to, of course."

Ari grumbled inwardly. "Snowbird, huh? So I guess you're out here a lot."

"A lot more than I used to be. Let's just say I finally stopped asking for permission and just decided I was master of my own life."

Ari forced herself to chuckle. "Cool." She looked down at his golf bag and saw the initials MLB stitched into the pocket. "Hey, Major League Baseball." He stared at her until she pointed at the embroidery. "Right? Go Mariners."

"Oh. No, those are my initials."

"Oh, so it's your anagram." She couldn't resist.

He smiled and nodded. "Yeah."

"So what does it stand for?"

"My name."

Ari resisted the urge to start choking the asshole. They arrived at the first tee, but they had to wait for the people in front of them to tee off. The man who insisted on staying anonymous gestured at the four players. "You sure you don't mind playing one-on-one? You could wait for a group."

"Oh, no, this is fine. Things get so terribly complicated in a threesome, you know?"

He lowered his chin and chuckled until he could compose himself. "Darling, I'd love to find out how you handle yourself in one."

Ari turned away from him and pretended to select a club. She didn't care about hitting a little white ball; she was thinking about which one would do the most damage to his cranium. He pressed against her from behind and she stiffened as he guided her hand to one club. "You're going to want to start off with a wood."

"Ah. Thanks." She took the club from the bag and squirmed away from him. She took a deep breath of fresh air once she was out of the cloud of his cologne. She flipped the club upside down, gripping the head with her hand and leaning on the shaft so he wouldn't attempt to correct her stance. He pointed at it and winced. "That's not good for the club."

"Oh." She stopped leaning, since she was borrowing the set from someone she actually liked. She instead crossed the club across her shoulders and held it with both hands. This position had the added benefit of thrusting her chest forward so she could be ogled.

Snowbird was watching her with a smile. "Tell me the truth, Abby. You've never played a game of golf in your life, have you?"

She winced. "Am I that obvious?"

"That's the problem with golf. The people who are good at it make it look so easy that anyone thinks they can walk up and do it, too. But it takes a lot of skill to get a little ball into that hole way out there."

"I guess so."

He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a card. "I've been known to give, uh, private lessons, to the right students."

And by that you mean the ones who are half your age and wear short skirts. Right. She took the card and looked at the embossed name. "Maxwell Burke."

"That's me."

Thank the sweet lord . She thumped the card with her middle finger and bent down to put it in the pocket of her bag. She was well aware that she was presenting her rear end to Max, but the whole charade was about to be ended. She wasn't expecting his hand to slip under her skirt, and she bared her teeth as he touched the back of her underwear.

"You know, there are other games we could be playing. Games I'm sure you are already quite adept at..."

"Sorry, Snowbird." Ari pulled away from him and held out the papers she'd gotten from the bag. He looked at her, looked at the papers, and realization slowly spread across his face. "Maxwell Lionel Burke, you've been served. You want to live like you're single, man up and sign the papers."

He snatched the papers away from her and glared down at them. She could tell he was debating whether or not to tear them up, but it wouldn't matter. He had been served, the damage was done. He rolled them up and slapped them against his thigh. He twisted to look back at the clubhouse, and Ari knew he was going over the past few minutes in his head trying to find where he'd screwed up.

"You've been running from this for two years, Mr. Burke. It's time to face the music."

"You go to hell."

Ari shrugged and returned her club to the bag. She crossed her arms over her chest and watched him as he read the papers. "Your wife just wants what she's owed. You cheated on her and, when you decided to trade up for a younger model, you jumped ship and ran away."

"So that bitch deserves half my income?" he said.

"She deserves to be free of you. She gave you the benefit of the doubt, despite the fact you hit on anything in a skirt. Yeah, she knew about that. I figured it would work nicely to get your guard down so you could finally be served with those papers. Your marriage is over, as of right now. All that's left is for you to sign on the dotted line." Ari put the strap of her bag over one shoulder and walked away. "Have a nice day, Mr. Burke."

She heard him curse under his breath as she walked away, one hand behind her back so the bag wouldn't bump her ass with every step. She looked up at the sky, at clouds that promised no rain while still occasionally blotting out the sun.

It really was a nice day for a walk. She decided she would go for one as soon as she changed clothes and got rid of the damned heavy clubs.